Dress Up
by Cinerari
Summary: SPCH-verse; Unfortunately for Daiba, he makes a very convincing girl. Kei isn't allowed to pick out his outfits anymore. Or his make-up.
1. Adventures in Shaving

**Warning! Alright, so this fic contains cross-dressing, Daiba being harassed by men, m/m, and OC/Daiba sooo... I'm not really sure why people want to read it. But there is protective dad Harlock, so that's nice. This first chapter just has the cross-dressing, so if you're intrigued by that but want to skip everything else, just stick with the first part.**

**Usually I'd be apologizing at this point, but I'm not going to this time. You can't make me! Shockingly, it was requested that I post this here. Anyway, I apologize for any mistakes and hope you're entertained.**

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Undercover mission made it sound like they were going to be spies with fancy gadgets and tuxedos and classy alcohol that had the girls falling all over them. That even seemed to be the way the plan itself was leaning – crashing a formal government party in order to keep an eye on all the lazy bastard generals while some of the other men stole some data from the government bureau.

Daiba had eagerly volunteered for the party group, because hell, they really didn't need to do anything other than make sure a few men stayed in place. And in the meantime, he'd be able to enjoy being in the company of some actual girls. Well, other than Kei. She didn't really count.

"They're probably going to recognize you," she noted, frowning at the tablet in her hands. "You're going to need a disguise like the captain." She tilted her head, studying him. A slow smile spread across her lips. "I have just the thing."

"We're not going to rent a tux?" he called to her back as she started down the hall.

She paused, glancing back at him in amusement. "No, why would we rent…? Anyway, I've got something perfect for you already. Don't worry about it."

He gave up with a slight shrug and headed back for his own room. It seemed better to trust Kei with his outfit choice than any of the men.

They'd be taking space wolves down in order to go in without getting caught, or hopefully without getting caught, so they couldn't change into formal wear until they got to the ground.

They had to take an entire box of disguise kit tools just for the captain, who needed to be at the party in case the officials noticed something wrong. He'd said it would be easier to knock them back when they didn't have any weapons on them, but Daiba wondered how the captain planned to do that without a weapon of his own. He still wasn't happy to have to leave his own Dragoon behind.

They left only a few hours after having planned the mission, having such a small window of time to work with. "Alright," Harlock began sternly on the way down. "No drinking. We're here to observe. You can hold glasses of alcohol, but avoid actually drinking any. If you get drunk, it's not my fault if you get left behind. It's fine if you have some fun, but you have a job to do so…"

Daiba missed the rest of the lecture after zoning out. He stared with interest at the nearing pinpricks of light from the city, mirroring the stars above with the inky black of the unlit buildings.

"…So don't leave any drinks unattended," the captain concluded as they landed near a modest house at the edge of the city. The hacking group had landed elsewhere in order to prepare for their own portion. If something went wrong, it was Daiba's group that was supposed to be chased. He hoped to avoid that.

The woman inside the home cooed over the captain like an overbearing mother as Daiba and Kei tried to hide their snickering. "You probably saw the car out front," she nodded. "It can go up to 400 kilometers an hour. Try not to crash it, would you dear? I don't think there would be bodies to recover."

"I'm a fine driver, Anita," the captain assured her. "I shouldn't need to go that fast anyway."

She eyed him sternly as Kei dragged the smallest pirate toward the bathroom. "What are you doing?" Daiba grumbled.

"You need to shave."

The teen ran a hand across his chin. His hopes of facial hair were quickly dashed. He'd never had so much as peach fuzz. "What for?"

"Because leg hair is gross, and you need to look nice."

Daiba tried his best to process this as Kei simply pulled out a razor and shaving cream from a bag filled with who knew what else. The younger pirate could only stare at the items as they were placed in his hands. He didn't quite trust the pink flowers covering the can of shaving cream.

"Take a shower quick," his superior nodded. "We don't have a lot of time."

"But why do I need to shave my legs?"

"If you don't," Kei warned, "no one will want to dance with you."

He glanced back down at the fruity can before giving in with a sigh. He wasn't so sure if he cared about dancing with girls, but he didn't want them to get too grossed out to talk to him. Jeez, girls were picky. "What about my suit?"

"Uh, I'll leave it out in the bedroom down the hall. Just yell if you need any help with anything." Her eyes sparkled, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh, you're going to look so great!"

He frowned at the door as it closed behind her. How did shaving work anyway?

Out in the living room, Harlock tried his best to deal with all the make-up coating his face. His hair was dyed hay blond, and his scar was hidden with thick coat of cover-up. He wasn't fond of complex disguises, and even this much didn't keep him from sticking out in a crowd. He was too tall, and the eye patch didn't help. He tied a slimmer white one into place once they'd finished caking make-up on his face.

Since he'd just be staying out by the car, he hoped not to draw any attention. Even with how dense the officials were, they'd seen his face enough. They could recognize him if he was one of the party-goers. It was for the best. He didn't really want to be stuck in a crowded ballroom with so many men he hated for three hours anyway.

Anita jumped, her teacup nearly flying from her hand as an enraged yell sounded from the bathroom. "Ow, fuck!" Daiba screeched.

Harlock turned a curious eye to Kei, who seemed to be trying to hide a smile. "Hopefully he won't cut up his legs too much," she said. "I didn't bring that many band-aids."

"Why would he be cutting up his legs?" the captain frowned.

"Why is it bleeding so much!?" Daiba howled.

"He's never shaved before, I'm sure," the blond giggled.

She was meddling again, and Daiba was going to throw a fit over it. Harlock was starting to wonder if all this data was worth the trouble. "Why is he shaving his legs?" he drawled.

"So he can look nice," Kei nodded.

"Oh my God, it won't stop!"

"It's fine!" the female pirate called. "Or do you need help?"

"No, I do not need- Ow! Goddamnit!"

After a few more curses, they heard the door get thrown open followed by his patter of footsteps storming down the hall. "Don't put anything on your legs," Kei yelled. "You don't want to stain your outfit!"

A moment of silence followed.

"Kei, where is my outfit?"

"It's on the bed."

Another, longer pause.

"Are you sure? I just see yours."

"No, that one's yours, Daiba."

Both Harlock and his youngest crewman seemed to come to the realization at the same time. The captain placed a hand to his face. Daiba, having lost his grasp on words, gave a confused wail of distress.

Kei just rolled her eyes. "Do you need help putting it on?"

"I am not wearing this!" the teen screamed.

"You don't have anything else to wear. Come on, you'll look so cute!"

"I don't want to look cute!"

Kei huffed in annoyance. "Why do men have such an aversion to cute things? There's nothing wrong with a guy wearing a dress."

"I have no problems with a guy wearing a dress! I have problems with me wearing a dress!"

"Well, you don't have anything else to wear, so you'd better start getting into it, or I'll force you into it. But make sure you don't put the stockings on 'til you've cleaned up your legs. You don't want to stain them."

"Kei," Harlock sighed. "Have you ever considered that Daiba wants to keep his pride?"

"Wearing a dress isn't going to hurt his pride," she muttered, severely annoyed with the two males. "He's going to look great, Captain."

Harlock wasn't fooled. "It's not just about the dress. A dress wouldn't be enough of a disguise. He's not a toy, Kei."

A sly smile wormed across her face. "I know, but he needs to learn some humility anyway. But just wait until you see him." She headed toward the bedroom, bouncing on her toes. "Daiba," she sang. "You decent?"

"Hell no!"

"What a foul-mouthed young man," Anita frowned in disapproval. She turned on his superior. "You need to raise him better, mister."

Harlock simply settled himself back on the couch, preparing for further lecturing. She'd likely be at it until they had to leave.

In the bedroom, Daiba had yet to give in to Kei's demands. He simply sat on the bed in his boxers, trying to cover up as much of himself as possible by crossing his arms over his chest and curling up a bit. "Stop that," he hissed as Kei set to work cleaning up his battered legs.

She ignored him, continuing to place band-aids across his knees. "You did a good job for the most part."

"I think I pulled off more skin than hair," he grumbled.

"Alright," she grinned once the blood had been stopped. "Since you don't want to get in the dress, I'll just go ahead and do your hair."

Daiba scowled at the frilly piece lying next to him. The simple baby pink affair gave way to white lace ruffles around the hem. White, thigh-high stockings and a white sweater jacket lay on top, with black buckle shoes beside them. At least the dress was modest. It covered about as much as a tux would, but that fact wasn't making him feel much better.

Without much of a choice, he allowed his hair to be blow-dried and set into place. He couldn't remember the last time his hair hadn't been just messy layers. Kei clipped a small pink bow into his bangs to hold them back. When he tried to remove it, his hand was slapped away.

"Ah! It looks great! See?" she smiled in triumph. "Just put a little effort into your looks and you could be so lovely."

"I never said I wanted to be lovely," the teen sighed in defeat. At least he could completely see with both eyes now.

"Sure you do," Kei cooed. "You just don't know it yet." She forced both his legs into the strangling stockings. "You have nice legs, you know, except for all the cuts."

He wasn't sure if he could take it as a compliment at this point.

"Arms up," she commanded.

"I really don't think that-"

"Arms up!"

He tentatively raised them and was quickly swallowed by a mass of frills and cotton. Before it was even completely over his head, she grabbed him by the hands and yanked him to his feet. "Suck in" was all the warning he was given before his lungs were squished by the zipper.

The sweater quickly followed, adorning his shoulders. "Perfect, perfect!" Kei squealed in joy, smoothing out any wrinkles. "Look at you!"

She spun him, forcing him to look in the full-length mirror nearby. His hair was neatly combed into place, curling around his cheeks. The dress was simple, sort of childish really, except…

"Um," he frowned, his hands wandering up to cup the padding at his chest. The room turned into a sauna as his face was consumed with a blush.

"Aren't they cute?" Kei giggled. "Not even A cups. Now come on, I need to get your make-up done."

"But," he whimpered. "But…boobs. I…"

She took no interest in his crisis, forcing him to sit back on the bed as her hand dove into the cavernous bag of supplies. Daiba didn't even know what half of those things were. That was mascara and that was blush, or was that blush? What were the pencils for?

"Just something light," Kei muttered, examining him like unshaped clay. "Your features are already pretty nice. Need some color though, and less eyebrows."

He finally returned to fighting back at the sight of the tweezers. "No! I've had enough!" he growled, batting her hand away.

"Oh my goodness, Daiba, it's just a few hairs. Sit still." She grabbed his chin roughly and plucked while he screeched his disapproval along with some colorful words.

"Now," she huffed, smirking when it was over. "Some base, blush, mascara, and lipstick."

"I thought you said something light!" he squeaked.

"Okay, fine, lip gloss then."

"If I die in a strange accident tonight, just know that it was all your fault."

Out of all the things he didn't like, he really didn't like make-up. It felt too restricting against his skin, and his eyelashes were sticking together. His lips tasted fruity though.

"Stop eating the lip gloss," Kei advised as she handed him the tube with a wink. "You might need it for later." Daiba wasn't sure exactly what that was about but he guessed he didn't like it.

"You do look gorgeous," she hummed in contentment, "and just adorable!"

"Shoot me," he responded dryly.

"Oh wait! One more thing!" She dug something out of the bag. "Your voice is already almost passable, so this should be simple. Open your mouth."

"Why?" he frowned in suspicion.

"Well, you need this for communication anyway. I'll have one too." Once he complied, she clicked a small device onto his back right tooth. "These will pick up anything you say, but only what you say. We won't get anyone else's side of the conversation, so if it's something we need to know, try to get it across without being too obvious. I think that frequency should work. Here, say something."

"Like what?"

A look of horror overtook his face as Kei's lit up with glee. "You even have an adorable girl voice!" she squealed. "Can you please just be a girl from now on?"

"No!" Daiba snapped, his voice high and bell-like. "I'm not a girl!"

"Aww, fine. Just for tonight then," she sighed through a smile as she helped him into the cramped, hard shoes. "Now let's go show the captain how pretty you are."

"No, absolutely not!" he begged as she dragged him out.

"Captain!" she sang. "Have a look at, uh, my new sister, um…Takako Yuki!"

As Daiba was forced into view, he could easily see the discomfort in his captain's face. "He…certainly looks like a girl, Kei," the older man managed.

"He is an adorable little girl, isn't he?"

"He is!" Anita cooed.

"Aren't you going to get ready, Kei?" Harlock asked, a command in his voice. They didn't have much time left.

"Oh, right."

She rushed off, leaving the cross-dressing boy to shift uncomfortably in his shoes. His face radiated so much heat that the blush was unneeded. He toyed with the hem of his dress, tugging on it to keep it down to his knees. Any higher seemed unsafe. He couldn't meet his captain's gaze.

"You don't have to be so ashamed," Harlock offered, trying to ease his upset crewman. "You do look nice. There's nothing wrong with it." If he completely ignored the fact that this was Daiba, he would have thought she was a sweet young girl dressed nicely and conservatively.

His youngest crewman threw a quick, uncertain glance. "Yeah, but you look cool."

Cool? He was just wearing a regular tux. Even the chauffeur had to dress nicely, but he hadn't bothered with anything fancy. Then again, at least his voice hadn't been raised an octave.

Harlock considered his word choice. It was too easy to step into awkward or offensive territory. "I think it's impressive that you can look attractive as either gender. I would make a hideous woman."

He was rewarded with a shy smile. "Uh," Daiba huffed. "Do you think any girls will want to dance with me?"

"Well, I suppose you'll need to ask them that," Harlock nodded. "It's just on old cliché that the men ask the women to dance, so it's rarely expected of a woman to do so even if they want to."

"Yeah…and what if a guy asks me to dance?"

Harlock's expression flipped to a controlled anger. "Men are perverts. Don't let them touch you or buy you drinks. If one asks you for a dance, you knee him in the groin."

"O-oh," Daiba blinked. Apparently being a girl was far more frightening than he'd realized.

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**I am a quality writer.**


	2. Be a Lady

**Did someone say I have the dumbest OC on the planet!? How dare-!? Actually that was me. And it's true.**

**You're still reading this? You are so cute. Well, have fun. Sorry if I messed anything up.**

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"What d'ya think?" Kei grinned, giving a twirl. Daiba held a hand across his face to hide his blush. The sapphire blue dress barely reached mid-thigh, and even then a slit cut up on each side, exposing more of her leg than the teen could ever feel comfortable seeing.

A sky-blue sash was draped over her arms and shoulders which offered little covering for the large area of exposed chest. Daiba thought the piece barely covered what it needed to, and he was a blushing mess because of it.

The captain just frowned in disapproval.

"It'll certainly grab the boys' attention," Anita laughed. "You look lovely, dear."

"Thank you," Kei cooed.

Her hair was tied up in a shimmering ponytail, stray ringlets falling down by her ears. Blue eye shadow and a light dusting of blush highlighted her features. She was pretty, Daiba thought. She was just a bit exposed. Maybe he'd gotten lucky with his dress.

"Let's go," Harlock ordered curtly. "We're already running behind schedule."

The car was a sleek black beast, blending neatly into the backdrop of night. Daiba stared in awe of it. The thing must have been cost quite a few arms and legs. "Can I drive?" he asked dreamily.

The captain didn't hesitate. "No."

"I think we want to make it through this alive," Kei agreed.

The unlicensed teen pouted as his superior dragged him into the back seat with her. She then quickly urged him to cross his legs "You need to learn how to sit in a dress," she giggled.

His blush returned with a vengeance.

As they drove, Harlock tried to block out all of the pointers his youngest crewman was being given in the back seat about being a proper lady. They all seemed to go completely against his own advice.

"But I don't want to dance with a guy," Daiba huffed.

"But they'll want to dance with you," Kei countered. "You can't say no. That would be rude. Unless he's a creep. Then you can say no."

"They're all creeps," Harlock grumbled. Most of them did work for the government. That made them pretty low in his book.

"It's just a dance," Kei countered. "You do know how to dance, right Dai- Takako?"

"Uh…"

"You should come in so you can teach him, Captain!"

Harlock sighed, wondering just what on earth was going through his female crewman's head.

Apparently everyone was arriving fashionably late, because they had to wait in line to get the car up to the entrance. Kei took the opportunity to get their ear pieces set up and adjusted. "Remember," the captain said, his voice echoing slightly in their ears. "Stay focused on your job. If a single one of those men goes back to his office and gets on his computer, we're sunk."

The younger pirates nodded. Luckily there were only five men they particularly needed to keep their eyes on.

When they reached the drop-off point, the captain stepped out and opened their door for them. Daiba found it a bit funny to have him acting as a sort of servant. "Behave," the man muttered under his breath.

The front steps were a sleek marble, leading up to massive oak doors. They were open, revealing the warm bustle of the party inside. Kei's black heels echoed sharply against each step. Daiba's shoes made little clicks. He stared at them as he walked, his face burning.

"Chin up," Kei whispered. "Come on, little sister, we own this place."

Her enthusiasm wasn't doing much for his self-esteem. God, this was humiliating.

Stepping inside bathed them in yellow light from the numerous chandeliers of the high, ornate ceiling. A swarm of conversation arose from the crowd, the orchestra highlighting the mood with a light waltz. Men mostly wore tuxes, the women shimmering cocktail and floor-length dresses of every color.

The door guard let them in without trouble, checking the list they'd hacked earlier. After scoping out a table, Kei allowed Daiba to sit away from the crowd. He watched the spinning couples on the dance floor without interest as she went to grab them something to drink.

"Found one," she noted through the buzzing bug his ear. "It's Russo. You see any?"

His eyes darted about curiously over the groups all across the hardwood floor. "There's the rest," he muttered. "They're all at that table by the food." Not surprising really. They all looked like they were pretty fond of eating.

"Good," Harlock said. "Hopefully they'll stay there."

"Excuse me."

Daiba nearly jumped out of his chair. He whipped around to see a guy slightly behind him, smiling tentatively. "Oh, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. He was certainly a few years older than the teen, around eighteen. "Aren't alone, are you?"

"N-no," Daiba squeaked. "M-my sister's here."

"Oh? So you don't have a date then?"

Daiba's eyes widened in terror. Kei needed to get back right the hell now. "N-no, I don't have…a date."

"Oh my gosh!" Kei squealed. "That was fast. Hmm, hey, he's handsome."

"No," Harlock growled.

"Would you care for a drink?" the stranger offered.

"Well, my sister's already getting us some," the cross-dresser mumbled.

The voices in his ear chimed at the same time.

"No, let him get you something!"

"Don't take anything he gives you."

"Captain," Kei pouted.

"Kei," Harlock warned.

"Then would you like to dance?" the young man grinned winningly.

Daiba froze, his mouth hanging open as he searched for an excuse. Screaming for help was tempting. "I…don't know how to dance," he managed.

"Is this really happening?" the captain sighed.

"See? I told you," Kei laughed.

"Not a problem," the stranger purred, offering a hand.

Daiba's expression sunk into a scowl. Why was he even being so polite about this? "I don't want to dance," he huffed.

The young man blinked, the realization of rejection slowly sinking in. Anger screwed up his face, and he turned away sharply. "Bitch," he muttered, obviously intending to be heard.

"Did that bastard just call me a bitch?" the teen whispered, enraged.

"Okay, maybe he wasn't worth dancing with," Kei sighed.

"Kill him," Harlock ordered calmly.

The young man whose life was currently being threatened stormed off back toward the comfort of his group. He wasn't accustomed to being rejected. Every girl wanted a chance to be seen with the marine commander's son.

"That little bitch just shot me down," he snapped as he neared the group of young men.

"She looks pretty stuck-up," one muttered.

"Yeah, dressed like a prude," another agreed.

The youngest of the group finally noticed that they were discussing something and glanced down from the chandelier that had consumed his attention for the past twenty minutes. "Huh?" he questioned.

"Some girl just turned Lucas down, and he's pissed about it."

The young airhead earned himself a glare as he laughed. "That's great. It's about time someone told you no."

"Why don't you go try her out then?" Lucas snapped, knocking a thumb back over his shoulder toward the two girls that seemed to be arguing.

"Which one?" the younger blinked. "That really cute one?"

"No, the little prude."

He ruffled his feather-like black hair in confusion. "The one with the stockings? That's the one I was talking about. She's adorable!" The more he stared at the angry young lady, the more he liked her. Everything about her seemed different – dress, personality, that cute way she stamped her feet in irritation. She was already way more interesting than any of the girls his father had tried to hook him up with. He wasn't sure why he was blushing so much.

"You would be interested in that one," one guy snorted.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," the teen smiled, his stomach fluttering.

"Good luck," Lucas grumbled.

The sixteen-year-old was a bit tall for his age, and he stood almost unsteadily on his extended legs. The poor girl was a good foot shorter than him. As he strode up behind her, he worried he might scare the tiny thing. "Evening," he greeted. "You're-"

With a bright squeak of surprise, she spun and drove a fist directly into his gut. He staggered back with a wheeze. Christ, this girl could punch!

"T-Takako!" the older girl gasped.

"Don't sneak up on me," the younger snapped.

"Oh," he laughed through a wince. "Sorry. I just came over to apologize for my friend. He can be a bit of a hassle."

"Was he talking bad about me more?" Takako snarled. "Douchebag."

"Takako, watch your mouth," the girl in blue scolded. She was gorgeous, but the young man didn't find much interest in her.

"No, it's fine," the teen laughed again. "He really is, to be honest. Anyway, my name's Taro."

"You're just going to give me your first name?" the shorter girl frowned, crossing her arms. Despite having to look up toward him, she showed no signs of being intimidated.

"Ah, well…" He never was too keen on giving out his last name. People usually recognized that. "It's Fujiwara."

But instead of lighting up and suddenly swarming him in positive attention, Takako scowled. "You're not the prime minister's kid, are you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Hm." She started to turn away, but Taro grabbed her hand with a nervous smile.

"Um, could I have your name?"

"Didn't you just hear it?" She seemed irritated by his presence, by everything. His whole life he'd been a spoiled government brat. This was odd and new, but he found it exciting. Someone actually disliked him and wasn't afraid to show it. And she was cute to boot.

"But your full name," he pleaded.

"Takako Yuki," she huffed.

Even her name was cute. He grabbed her other hand, pulling them both up to grasp in his. "Would you please let me dance with you, Miss Yuki?"

"What is with people and this dancing thing?" she muttered. "I don't even know how."

"Neither do I!" he smiled. "I never went to my lessons."

"She'd love to dance with you," the girl in blue cooed. "Go have fun."

"What?" Takako blinked as Taro's smile brightened. He eagerly began tugging her toward the dance floor.

"It's okay. Dancing's easy," he nodded. "I kind of know the Waltz anyway."

"One dance," she spat.

One dance sounded like heaven to him. He'd never been much for dancing, but being with her, watching her scowl, it sounded like fun. He'd never considered himself a masochist, but maybe he was for this girl. Besides, there wasn't anything else to do here besides dance. The whole thing was just for show anyway.

Once they'd made it to the dance floor, she glared at the spinning couples surrounding them. Some were already drunk. Most were just doing it for appearances.

Taro took one hand in his own and urged her to place her other on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" she frowned, pulling his hand away from her waist.

"Well, that's proper dancing form."

"No."

"Where should I put my hand then?"

"Somewhere else. Wouldn't it make more sense if my hand was on your side and your hand was on my shoulder because you're taller?"

He considered it for a moment. "I guess it would, but I've never seen anyone do that."

Her scowl sunk further, her eye twitching. "Fine." Taro couldn't help but adore the stunning blush that overtook her face as he returned his hand to form.

They were both abhorrent dancers. Takako didn't utter a single apology for the many times she stepped on the taller boy's feet, though he would quickly splutter one each time he accidentally did. He didn't mind. Her feet were so small that it didn't hurt anyway.

Everything about her was so cute, and he was entranced by the unladylike way she stuck out her tongue to the side in concentration and stared at her feet as she danced. She didn't appreciate being twirled. The attempt brought the government brat a murderous glare. "You're adorable," he offered.

She ignored it. "How long is this song?"

"I'm not sure."

"I think those people are laughing at us."

"That's nice."

She frowned at him, and he smiled down at her until the song was over. As soon as the last chord began to fade, she darted away without a word. "Oh, wait!" Taro called. "Let me get you some food or something."

"Can people drug food?" Daiba hissed as soon as he was out of range.

"Of course," Harlock grumbled.

"Aww, you guys were cute," Kei countered. "You should stick with him."

"No," both males snapped.

"But he may have some good information on his dad."

"Information about what?" Daiba growled as he reached her. "He's a complete idiot. He's not going to know anything we could need." What they were after was the specs for the government's new weapons and the supposedly hidden research data of the killed scientists. That moron wouldn't know a thing.

"You never know. What if he does know something important? You wouldn't want to miss this opportunity. Maybe he's an idiot socially, but he's a brainiac when it comes to other things. Like you."

The youngest pirate remained silent as he tried to figure out whether that was a compliment or an insult.

"Just stick to the plan, Kei," Harlock ordered. "Everything we need we should get from their computers."

"But, Captain, I can keep an eye on all those men by myself. They've hardly moved, and two of them are already drunk. Let's see if Daiba can handle a little espionage."

"Do I have any say in this?" the spy in question asked.

"Daiba's right," the outside voice agreed. Daiba wondered if he'd ever heard that phrase form the captain before. "This is up to him."

Kei's gaze held a disturbing amount of psychotic glee as it turned on the smaller pirate. "Takako," she sang. "Do you remember that favor you owe me?"

The teen's spine shot rigid. "Y-yeah…" Why had he ever thought that Kei was nice? She was a demon, an absolute devil.

"Are you blackmailing him?" Harlock sighed.

Daiba bristled. Sure the captain didn't have any real rules on the ship, but there were certain things that he didn't need to know about. Kei had a bad habit of finding these things out. "Fine!" he cried. "I'll go talk to the dumbass!"

No matter how many times he'd heard "handsome" or "precious" or "adorkable" cooed from his earpiece, Daiba hadn't seen anything in Taro. Some form of muscle was hidden behind the awkward, tall frame that he still seemed to be getting used to. His face was a bit thin, matching his nose. The only thing that stood out about him was the lopsided smile that was as crooked as his father's policies.

Hell, Taro could have been the most attractive girl in the place, and Daiba still would have had a bad taste in his mouth. He hated the prime minister about as much as he hated the Mazone.

The older boy had placed himself beside the food, and his eyes brightened at the sight of Daiba stalking over to him. "I was afraid I'd offended you," he greeted.

"I'm offended every second I have to be near you," the pirate grumbled. Kei immediately scolded him.

Taro only laughed. Maybe he thought Daiba was kidding. "Well, do you want something to eat?"

"I can get it myself."

"I know."

The government brat seemed a bit too curious about everything Daiba chose from the lavish buffet. When the blond snapped at him about it, Taro smiled and said he just wanted to know what Takako liked. When the cross-dresser passed up the strawberries, the elder seemed disappointed.

"You don't like strawberries?"

"No."

"Aw, but you're as cute as one."

"Fruit isn't cute," Daiba growled.

"I wanted to feed one to you." He squeaked as the pirate's heel crushed his toes. "You're a lot stronger than you look."

"And you're a pervert."

Taro didn't seem put off in the slightest. "Really? I thought all guys fed things to their girls."

"I'm not your girl."

Harlock, again, ordered for there to be death.

"Of course you're not," the taller nodded. "I'm your guy though."

Daiba blinked, his brow creasing. "I don't remember claiming you."

"You don't have to. I decided I was yours." He took an olive from the blond's plate and popped it in his mouth. "This is awful," he frowned.

"Then why'd you eat it?"

"I'd never had one before. But I thought if you liked them, then they must be good."

"You are so stupid that it physically hurts to talk to you."

"That's nice," the taller smiled. "As long as I'm not boring."

"You're certainly not," the cross dresser grumbled.

Taro placed another olive on his plate to replace the one he'd taken then grabbed a plate of cheesecake. "What do you want to drink?"

"Don't touch my drink," the shorter snapped, grabbing a glass of water.

"Is he trying to?" Harlock growled.

"Don't think so," the young pirate sighed under his breath.

"Are you worried I'm going to put something in it?" Taro blinked curiously. "My friends do that sometimes, but I don't really know anything about it."

As if Daiba didn't already hate the group enough. "Your friends need to get their asses kicked," he spat.

"Yeah. I'm not very good at fighting though," the taller male frowned.

"Then I'll kick their asses for you."

Daiba spun on his heel, searching for the government bastards, but he was stopped by an arm hooking around his. "You're amazing, Takako," Taro cooed. "I've never met someone so violent before. But if you hit someone, you might get kicked out, and then I would miss you."

While getting kicked out sounded like a treat to Daiba, the captain could have gotten irritated about him not completing his mission properly. He glanced to the table of the officials. Most of them were too drunk to move from their seats without falling. Damn, why hadn't he volunteered for the data group? At least he could have felt useful.

Taro led him to a table and sat him down. "I'll let you beat my friends up later," he offered. "I know they deserve it."

"Sounds good. Why are you friends with them anyway?"

"I guess I'm not really 'friends' with them, but Dad said I should stay with them because they're good influences."

The blond picked up a rib, dripping with marinade. Damn rich people and their delicious food. "You don't believe that, do you?" he asked.

"No," the elder sighed. "But I don't have much choice but to do what my dad says. There aren't many people that are interested in being friends with me for reasons other than my position." He watched in awe as the girl began to gnaw on the rib, completely destroying the rules of all the etiquette classes he'd ever had. "You're going to get something on you dress," he warned, placing a napkin in her lap.

"I don't care. It's not my dress. It's my sisters."

The more mannered boy took another napkin and wiped some sauce from the other's cheek. "Maybe, but it looks great on you," Taro smiled. "I wouldn't want to see it get ruined."

Daiba batted his hand away. "Stop with the touching!"

"I can't help it. You look so soft," the brat hummed contentedly. His joy was cut off by the heel of a Mary Jane slamming back into his toes.

"No touching," the cross dresser hissed.

"I'm going to come in there," Harlock warned.

"They are fine," Kei countered. "Daiba's just being a baby."

"Can you tell me more about yourself?" Taro requested once his toes began to ease their throbbing. "I've never heard of the Yuki family. What business are you into?"

"U-uh," the blond stalled. "A-astronomy?" Damnit, he could have bothered to sound a little less unsure about himself.

"I didn't realize you guys could be so well off in that field."

"Well my dad…discovered some things."

"What sort of things?"

This was not going smoothly. He wondered why Kei was suddenly so quiet before her excited agreement to dance with someone swam into his ear. Before he could dig himself any further into his own grave, a young man stepped up between him and his guy.

"Didn't expect you'd actually stay with this one, Taro," the new addition snickered, hooking his arms around the couple's necks. "Are you actually going to get it in this time?"

The government brat turned a startling red. "I'm not interested in that," he huffed. "Now stop that. She doesn't like being touched."

The pirate waited tensely for the weight to be removed from his shoulders. Instead the new brat dragged him closer and leaned in. His breath reeked of alcohol, and Daiba tried his best to pull away. God, was everyone at this party drunk?

"Maybe she just needs to learn how to be touched," the male purred, removing his arm from Taro to place his hand on the cross dresser's knee. As the strangers touch began to move up his leg, under his dress, the pirate's vision flashed red. He shot out a wild punch, only succeeding in having his arm grabbed by the bastard. Since when could these morons actually manage themselves in a fight?

The blond found himself yanked to his feet and forcefully spun. The crushing arm around his middle kept his back to the larger male. "Aren't you feisty?" the bastard laughed, leaning down to breathe his words into the small pirate's ear. "I bet you'd be fun in bed. Just have to tie you down a bit."

Taro jumped up, barking in protest, but his friend shoved him back with a growl. "If you're not going to use her right, then I will. Not much of a rack on this one though." His hand went to the chest that Daiba so obviously didn't have. The blond desperately attempted to move in some way that would remove the leech, but the bastard was much stronger than him. He could only sit in a broiling rage as his chest was patted curiously.

"Oh," the male snorted. "Well, that's fine. As long as you scream pretty."

Daiba would have screamed a slew of obscenities, but his throat was too dry to make a sound. This couldn't actually be happening.

"Let go of her!" Taro demanded in an enraged horror. His elbow came up to slam into his friend's nose, smashing it to a bloodied mess.

"You bastard," the stranger hissed. Daiba managed to struggle enough to break free, but the pervert grabbed at his dress. The skirt tore upwards jaggedly as Taro delivered a punch to his friend's stomach. The pirate's dress was released as the stranger fell back.

Everyone around them was apparently too drunk to care, because not a single eye was on the blond as he shakily tried to rearrange himself. Only the brat turned to him once he'd made sure his friend wouldn't be getting up. "I'm so sorry," the elder teen attempted nervously. "Do you need anything? I can go get your sister."

Daiba shook his head furiously, quickly returning to his seat. He didn't want to make a sound. Kei and the captain couldn't know about this. He needed to make up a story.

Taro handed him his water, and he accepted the glass with a mumbled thanks. "You're sure you don't need anything?" the brat sighed. "I'm so sorry about your dress. If you want to have someone fix it, you can send me the bill."

Daiba shook his head again. He was fine. That was nothing. He just wasn't sure he'd sound fine if he tried to talk. He really, really hated everyone here.

The pirate didn't realize he was shaking until Taro gently touched his shoulder. He flinched away in a fit of trembling. "I'm going to go get her for you," the taller boy decided, carefully retracting his hand.

But as he turned, he found a slight tug on the hem of his sleeve holding him back. The small girl who'd spent the whole time pushing him away was too scared to let him leave. Her hand shook, just like the rest of her as she held tight to his jacket sleeve. A soft sniffle escaped her, and Taro sat back down. He really didn't want to see her cry.

"He's not worth getting upset over," the boy attempted. "You can kick him a few times if it makes you feel better. That way he'll wake up with bruises." He grabbed the plate of cheesecake that he hadn't bothered to touch and jabbed a forkful, holding it up to the frightened girl.

"Oh, I guess you don't want me to feed you," he began in a laugh. It was cut short as Takako placed the fork in her mouth. It was just an instant. Then she pulled away in embarrassment, downing her water. The government brat was sure it was the happiest moment of his life.

Until a hand clamped down on his shoulder and his girl's eyes widened. "Takako," a graveled voice greeted. Taro was pretty sure enough pressure was being applied to his shoulder to break it. His gaze slowly moved up to the monstrously intimidating man.

Maybe this guy was a bit young but… "I-is this your dad?" the brat laughed nervously.

Takako was apparently too stunned to answer.

"Yes," the man replied for her.

"I'm Taro Fujiwara. N-nice to meet you…sir."

"A pleasure." The man's lone eye bored into him in obvious disapproval. That possibly had something to do with his daughter being close to tears.

His other daughter stormed up, grabbing him by the arm. "Ca- What are you doing in here?" she demanded.

"I was checking on the two of you, and it looks like I needed to."

Takako tried again to hide the tear in her dress, but her sister quickly realized the problem. "There's a half-dead guy on the floor," the elder girl huffed. "This obviously wasn't Taro's fault."

"He should have stopped it from happening to begin wi-"

"Come on!" The girl in blue jerked him away toward the dance floor. "While you're here, might as well have some fun."

"But-!" the father protested.

"Leave them alone. They are doing much better without your help."

The two continued to argue as the girl forced her father to take form and begin a light waltz. The pair moved naturally around the floor while the male tried to hide his irritation. "They're both really good dancers," Taro frowned. He suddenly regretted not being a better dancer for Takako.

But the girl wasn't watching her family. She looked closer to falling asleep. She fought to keep her eyelids up, her muscles relaxing her tense shoulders. "Are you getting tired?" the brat asked.

"No…" she murmured. "Yes but… I'm not…"

She didn't jump like everyone else as the alarm sounded. Instead she fell forward, her glass slipping from her hands and clattering to the marble floor. Taro caught her, holding her up as the alarms blared around them.

"That's a code four!" he yelled in distress. "Emergency evacuation."

The hundreds of privileged drunks panicked all at once. There was a massive rush for the front door. There was no way they could get out that way easily, and Taro needed to get his girl somewhere safe. She was limp, only held up by his grip on her shoulders.

"I know a back door," he said, scooping her up. "I'll get you to a doctor."

She was muttering to herself, fighting to stay awake. "No…can't get out…can't move. I don't know…where I am. Wait…wait for me. No…you…have to…wait."

Taro stumbled through the back halls of the building, toward the forgotten staff exit. Well, his house was close. They had a personal doctor there. No guarantee she wasn't drunk too, but he didn't have many other options. Takako felt like a ragdoll against him. She was so light, so fragile. He'd have to take care of her until her family came to get her. Hopefully her father wouldn't get the wrong impression. Er, hopefully his father wouldn't get the wrong impression.

* * *

**Excuse me, I need to go do my maniacal villain laughter. Drugged Daiba is the best Daiba because he can't complain about things when he's passed out. Oh dang, Daiba hasn't gotten slapped in this fic yet. I need to fix that.**


	3. Tee Off

**In which Daiba plays a rousing game of golf. **

**Enjoy your read, loves.**

* * *

Daiba was pretty sure his bed wasn't this comfortable. It usually didn't smell like fresh linen either. And most of the time he sprawled himself out enough to have one of his arms fall of the edge. This bed was much too large for that.

He started to open his eyes, but the blinding white of the room put an end to that. He buried his face in the plush pillows, voicing his displeasure with a whine that sounded a bit lighter than it should have.

Oh right…

He shot up in bed, ignoring the blinding light streaming in through the lace curtains. Someone was going to die within the next few minutes. Though, there wasn't anyone around for him to kill.

The room was half the size of the Arcadia's bridge. He could have fit four of his bedrooms in it. The bed must have been larger than a king, and the sheets may have been silk. He pulled them back, realizing he was still wearing his torn dress. So… That was probably a good sign.

Slipping of the bed, he tiptoed across the cherry-stained hardwood toward the door. "I guess no one can hear me," he sighed, hoping for a response from the bug still hidden in his ear. Nothing came. There was a three-mile limit on the signals. Wherever he was, it wasn't close to the crew.

What had happened last night? He rubbed at his aching head as he tried to remember through the fog. There was that idiot government brat. He'd been there. And the brat's disgusting friends. Something about…cheesecake. Then…uh something loud – some big blaring noise. That was all he could recall.

Before he reached the door, a knock echoed against it. "Excuse me, miss," a light voice called. "Are you up?"

"Sort of," Daiba answered slowly.

"We've drawn a bath for you if you'd like to clean up before breakfast."

"Uh, sure."

The voice's owner stepped inside, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile. She was comfortably heavy-set, likely well-muscled, with a mousy face. "It's through there, darling." She nodded to the door across the room. "I'll take your dress for you so it can be fixed up."

Daiba frowned at the tear running up his leg. "Uh, yeah." He turned, starting for the bathroom door.

"You can go ahead and give me the dress," the woman said. "Unless you need me to help you in the bath."

"W-what? No, I don't need help!"

"Then how are you going to get out of your dress?"

"I can take it off myself."

"Now without tearing it further you can't," the woman scolded, her hands moving to her broad hips. "Get over here. I don't care about your biological gender."

"Huh?" the teen blinked as she stormed up to him and began carefully pulling the dress up.

"Now the boss and the brat obviously don't know, and I'll make sure to keep it that way, but don't worry about me seeing anything. I raised that brat. I wouldn't judge you for a thing, so don't fret yourself. You can be whomever you want."

The pirate was somewhat lost, but he figured women apparently had less trouble figuring out he wasn't actually one of them. This one didn't seem to recognize him, but she was willing to keep him looking like a girl. He would have to go along with it if he wanted to get out any time soon. New clothes would be necessary for an escape.

"Who are the boss and the brat?" he questioned. "Where am I anyway? And why am I here?"

"Oh, poor dear," she sighed. "One of the brat's worthless friends drugged your drink. Do you remember Taro? I figured you met him early enough before the drug."

She pulled the dress off over his head, leaving him to stand uncomfortably in boxers and stockings. God, what had he done to deserve this? "Yeah," he huffed. "That's the brat? Are you sure he didn't drug me."

"I raised him better than that," she frowned. "He carried you here because it was close. Worried sick, he was. He's quite taken with you, and I'm certain he never laid an unnecessary hand on you."

"So I'm at…the prime minister's house?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded. "Now go clean up. I'll get you something nice to wear."

So it was that bastard's house. He needed to get out right away then. Suddenly everything about the home was up for criticism. It was too nice, too shiny and clean. He hated every inch of it because it belonged to that bastard. Damn rich people.

The bathroom especially – he really hated that. Everything was white marble and stainless steel, sleek and beautiful. The area was the size of his bedroom aboard the ship, the bathtub the size of a king bed. He simmered in the steaming water, scowling. At least he could get this damn make-up off.

"Hey, Takako."

The bar soap shot from the teen's hands and across the room. Goddamnit, what was that idiot doing here? Well, it was technically his house.

"Are you there?" Taro called again, standing outside the door to the hall.

"Yeah," Daiba huffed.

"Uh…I'm really sorry about last night, and I'm uh, glad you're alright."

"Uh-huh."

"C-can I come in?"

"I'm naked, idiot!" Daiba bristled.

Taro stumbled, his words running together "What? O-oh! This is your bathroom. I-I'm sorry."

"How do you not know where your own damn bathrooms are?"

"U-uh, I don't usually come to this side of the house."

Goddamn rich people.

"Well," the brat attempted, "I brought your clothes. I just…ah…I'm so sorry."

"Why do you have my clothes!?" the pirate demanded.

"B-because Miss Sachie gave them to me," the elder squeaked. "She had to go do something for Dad, so she said to drop these off here. Uh, if I cover my eyes, can I just drop them behind the door?"

The blond curled up, keeping himself hidden. "Okay, fine, but don't come in or anything."

"I wasn't going to." The door cracked open, allowing Taro to place the folded outfit inside before his hand drew back, and the door shut once more.

"Is that a skirt?" Daiba frowned.

"Yeah, they're my mom's clothes."

"Doesn't your mom have any pants?"

"No…"

"Your mom should get some pants."

"Uh…I'll ask Sachie to get you some pants. Breakfast is ready, so you can come and eat whenever you're done. The dining room is just down the hall and to the left."

Daiba grumbled to himself as he finished his bath. As long as he didn't have to eat with that damn prime minister, maybe he wouldn't be driven to madness. After stepping out of the tub, he slipped into an overly-fluffy, white robe and grabbed his new outfit before heading back into his room.

He no longer had any make-up, but did he need it? Scowling at his reflection in a full-length mirror, he attempted to make himself look manlier. He'd admit he had a somewhat feminine figure, but he didn't look that much like a girl…did he?

Outside the room, Taro had recalled that he'd promised to get the sheets off the guestroom bed for Sachie. Granted, he did realize as he was opening the bedroom door that he probably should have knocked, but once he caught sight of Takako sticking out her tongue at herself in the mirror, he forgot where he was and what he was doing.

She looked even smaller in the downy robe, standing on her bare tiptoes in an attempt to look taller. Taro's heart pounded in his ears, his face aflame. Slowly, the girl turned to him, ringlets of wet hair clinging to her soft cheeks, which were quickly overtaken by a startling red.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed.

A familiar grip latched onto his ear, tugging him back out of the room. "Ya idiot," Sachie scolded. "Get out of here."

"I-I didn't mean to!" he cried as the door was slammed in his face. "I was going to get the sheets! I wasn't trying to spy!"

"Get yourself some breakfast!" the maid commanded.

That wouldn't have been simple had Taro not been desperate to avoid his father. He sighed heavily as he turned and stalked to the dining room. Usually his dad stayed up at his work all the time, just because it was easier to sleep there instead of coming home, but the party had left him drunk. He'd stumbled home at the sound of the alarm. Then he'd gone to sleep.

That meant he had a hangover.

The brat crept into the dining room, making sure to roll on the balls of his feet so his house shoes didn't cause any noise. His dad was drowning his pain in a mug of coffee, his face against the table. Taking his seat, the son began picking at the plate that had been set out for him. He just couldn't find much of an appetite.

"Where's tha chick?" the prime minister grumbled, his vision dragging around as he pulled his head up.

"She's getting dressed," the teen answered, keeping his voice low.

"You proposed to 'er yet?"

"N-no. Dad, I just met her last night."

"We had an agreement," the elder scolded, picking up his fork to point it menacingly at the boy.

"Yeah but, there's no way she'll say yes. She barely knows me."

"It's either her or whoever I pick out. No buts."

"She's younger than me, Dad. It's too early for her to get married."

"What else has she got to do? Not going to college or getting a job or anything. Besides, they're good when they're young, and she's not going to turn you down. What girl in their right mind would?"

"One that doesn't care about money," Taro grumbled.

His father just snorted in amusement. "Propose to her by the end of the day or we're kicking her out."

"We need to locate her family though!"

The prime minister waved him away. "She can find her own damn way home. Besides, no one could find those people on record."

With another heavy sigh, Taro ruffled his hair in irritation. At least he had a day to try to work this out. Restless, he picked at his food until Sachie stepped up behind him and smacked the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," he huffed, unsure exactly what he was apologizing for. Apparently he was doing something wrong though.

"Eat," the woman scolded before glancing back toward the hallway. "Takako, sweetie. Are you coming?"

The temperature in the room shot up as the girl stiffly made her was around the corner and into the dining hall. She reminded Taro of a cat, puffed up in anger. Her face had been made up once more with a lighter coating of blush. Her hair was straightened, pinned out of her eyes by one of his mother's old silver clips, shaped like a robin. It matched the sprinkling of silver stars across the front of her white turtleneck sweater.

New white stockings adorned her legs beneath a navy blue pleated skirt, and shiny new Mary Jane's clicked against the hardwood as she stormed across it. Taro thought she couldn't get any cuter. She looked like she wanted to punch him.

Sachie smacked him again instead. "Quit your staring and eat."

Takako took a seat at the head of the table, as far as possible from the two men. She glared at everything in the room – table, chairs, silverware, the fancy food placed in front of her, and especially the prime minister.

"You would pick a crazy one," the man muttered to his son.

"She is not," Taro hissed.

"Hey," the girl snapped. "I'm going to go home."

"Oh," the elder teen frowned. "We can get a driver to take you."

"No, I can make it myself."

"By yourself?" the brat gawked. "You're not going to call a driver or anything?"

"I've got legs," she huffed.

"That's too dangerous! A-and…I wanted to take you golfing."

Daiba blinked. Golfing?

"You can't take a girl golfing," the prime minister sighed in exasperation. "Women can't play golf with men. That's why they have different courses."

"Well, I figured I'd play on the women's course with her-"

"You are not playing on a woman's course!"

"I can play on a men's golf course!" Daiba snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. "Golf is a sissy's game anyway." He'd be damned if he was going to put up with the ass who'd put that stupid gender segregated sports law into place.

"Okay," Taro smiled, his eyes sparkling.

Shit, he'd just agreed to play. Now how was he supposed to leave? He'd never even touched a club before. Well, these idiots probably sucked anyway. He'd be fine.

A few hour later he was wondering why he'd ever thought he'd be fine with this.

The course was air conditioned, which caused him to simmer in a rage but kept him from being hot in his sweater.

Damn rich people.

The only change of clothes he'd been allowed was into a set of golf shoes…which were still shaped irritatingly like Mary Jane's. What he wouldn't give for a pair of boots or sneakers. The bra Sachie had given him was especially irritating, stuffed to make him pass a bit better. How did girls deal with these things? They were so damn itchy.

Taro hummed in contentment as he drove them to the first hole. Daiba sat in a quiet rage next to him, wishing he had his gun.

"Hey," he snapped.

"Hm?"

"What happened last night after I got drugged?"

"I carried you to my house," the brat nodded.

"Yeah-yeah, I know about that. Why? Couldn't you have let me go home with my, er, family?"

"Oh!" Taro blinked in realization. "The alarm went off!"

"What?" The color drained from Daiba's face. "W-what alarm."

"At the central office. Apparently there was a hack or something. We almost didn't catch it, but there was this cat – tripped one of the sensors. Still, we didn't get the guys that did it."

The pirate found himself able to breathe again. "Do you know who did it?"

"Uh, I think Kiruda knew them, but I wasn't paying attention. He was just ranting. He does that a lot."

Well, as long as everyone was safe, Daiba didn't really care what all the government morons were ranting about.

"Alright," Taro said as he shut off the golf cart and stepped out. He placed a baseball cap on to shield his eyes from the sun as it made its way toward the center of the sky. "Which driver do you want to start with?" he questioned, pulling on a glove.

What the hell was a driver? Daiba stepped out, staring in confusion at the bag full of clubs. They all looked the same to him. Taro watched in amazement as the blond yanked a club and a ball out, storming up to the teeing ground.

Dropping the ball on the ground, Daiba attempted to line up his stroke, his tongue stuck out to the side in concentration.

"Takako…that's a putter."

"So what?" The cross dresser actually wasn't sure what a putter was or what Taro was talking about at all.

"Well…I mean, I guess if you want to drive with that. But uh, do you want a tee? Or a glove?"

"I know what I'm doing!"

He did not.

He swung back hard, finding the club had vanished from his hands as he finished the swing. He blinked in confusion, staring up at his empty grasp. Slowly his gaze traveled back to the brat, flat on his back after receiving a putter to his forehead.

"Oh, shit."

For a moment, Daiba seriously considered just taking the golf cart and leaving. Unfortunately he actually felt guilt. He strolled up to the fallen male, wincing at the sight of the fresh bruise blossoming across his forehead. "Uh, hey."

Taro's eyelids fluttered as he frowned in confusion. "Let's uh… Let's work on your swing." He sat up, fighting a bout of dizziness.

"You may have a minor concussion," Daiba noted. "You might want to get that checked out."

"I'm alright. Why don't you go grab a tee and whichever driver you'd like?"

"I don't know what those are," the pirate confessed with a shrug.

"I should have noticed," the brat smiled, rubbing at his head. "Hang on, I'll show you."

Once he managed to stand, he explained the basics of the game. Soon enough Daiba knew what exactly putters, drivers, sand traps, freeways, tees, and the "nineteenth hole" were. He'd even learned how to properly act like a golfer, not that he needed much assistance.

"This game is fucking stupid!" he screeched, hurling one of the hundred-dollar clubs into the lake he'd lost five balls in.

Taro had reached a birdie, one stroke under par. Daiba's score was somewhere in the fifties. How in the hell was that idiot so good at this stupid game?

"You're doing really well for your first round," the brat offered with an encouraging smile. "It only took you five swings to drive this time. That's great!"

"I am going to kill all that you love!" Daiba screamed.

"That's nice. Do you want to just call this one a scratch and go to the next hole?"

"I hate my life!"

"Sounds good." He walked back to the cart and waited for the blond to calm down enough to follow him. Within a few minutes, the pirate stormed up to the cart and plopped down.

"You're so cute," Taro cooed.

"The next club that hits your head will be your end."

"Precious," he hummed in confirmation. "Let me help you on your swing at the next hole, okay?"

His answer was an unintelligible grumble that he took as a yes. "I'll put a handicap on your score if you want," he offered.

"I don't need your help."

"You're right," he smiled. "And that's why you're so great."

Daiba puffed his cheeks. "Stop that."

At the tenth hole, Taro picked out a driver for his girl and placed her ball on the tee. "Your grip's wrong again," he corrected, stepping up behind her. Placing his chin in her hair, he corrected her grip with his arms settled over hers.

"Don't swing back so hard. It'll mess up your aim."

"You are too close."

Taro was too lost in how nice it was to be close to the girl to hear. "Hm? Oh, my dad kind of has this thing."

"You are still touching me."

"This is going to sound kind of weird, but we had this agreement that I was going to find a fiancée at the party."

"I do not like your words."

"And I know you don't want to get married or anything, but if you'd at least accept my proposal, it would get my dad off my back."

"You know who is on my back right now? It is you, and you need to get off."

"So, uh, I guess what I'm trying to say is…" He stuck a hand in his pocket, drawing out a velvet box that he held out for her to see. "Would you mind kind of marrying me, Takako?"

"This driver is going to break your kneecaps."

The brat flicked the box open, revealing a simple silver band with a clear, gleaming diamond surrounded by equally stunning sapphires. "I know it's not much, but it was my mom's ring, and she told me to only let someone I really cared for have it."

"Please stop talking."

"I know I just met you and all, but I can say for sure that I do really care about you. We don't actually have to get married or even really engaged, but I'm sure I'll never meet another girl that makes me feel like you do, so I want for you to have this."

"Oh, hell," Daiba sighed. They way Taro talked about his mom felt too familiar. "I can't…take that. Really."

"Sure you can." He carefully clasped the pirate's hand, sliding the ring onto the small male's thin ring finger. "I just figured this way, you won't forget about me, and maybe…maybe you could eventually decide you like me a little. Just keep it safe for me at least."

The blond turned, trying to pull away, but he found himself clutched in a gentle hug. The driver fell quietly to the grass behind him. "You're an idiot," he mumbled.

"Can I be your idiot?" Taro cooed.

"Sure. Whatever makes you happy." Damn idiot sure had a way of making him feel bad.

"You make me happy," The elder hummed, snuggling his cheek against the top of the shorter male's head.

"You have some severe problems then," Daiba murmured, the ring weighing his hand down. He breathed an apology that the brat couldn't hear. Hopefully it wouldn't completely crush him when he found out it was all a lie.

* * *

**Daiba, stop trying to pretend you're any better. You're both idiots. In the next chapter, things get serious! No, not really. That's a lie.**

**Sorry, Sora, this one isn't Harlock/Daiba I'm afraid. Though I have...written... um, anyway.  
And Aerandir, of course Harlock can dance. I'd bet on him knowing more than one style of formal ballroom dance. Harlock doing the tango...pffft.**


	4. Fenced In

**I'm pretty sure you write romance fics by having the love interests get harassed and beat up, right? That sounds right to me. In this chapter...uh things happen? Not really, but I can dream.**

**I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading this nonsense.**

* * *

Harlock was starting to think he should get a leash for his youngest crewman. "And he hasn't been arrested or anything?" the captain questioned, scowling.

"No," Kei sighed as she searched through the records. "Not unless they haven't made it public."

"They would. They'd probably try to use him to lure me out as soon as they found him." He just hoped Daiba had actually found somewhere to hide and something more sinister hadn't taken place. Either way, heads were likely to roll.

The problem, as Kei had pointed out not long after they'd lost the teen, was that Daiba did not have a change of clothes, and his dress had been ruined. He also didn't have any money on him, so finding a change of clothes likely would have required stealing, a practice the blond was not particularly skilled at.

"Are you sure we can't modify his receiver to track him down?" Kei asked hopefully, but the captain shook his head.

"That was a basic, two-way radio. It can't be used as a tracking device, even if we were within three miles of him. We just have to hope he finds some way to contact us."

They were currently stuck orbiting around Earth, laying low and trying to stay out of sight. There was just no reason to get into a fight, and they needed to process all the data.

"I suppose all we can do is give him another couple of days to see if he contacts us. If not, we'll have to leave him."

"Is he even going to know how to contact us?" the blonde frowned.

Harlock sank lower in his chair, grumbling. "Probably not." Maybe he should have planned for something like this. In hindsight, losing his youngest crewman was not entirely surprising. Still, he wasn't sure he would be able to make good on his promise of two days. There was a strong chance he'd give up and go track the troublemaker down himself if need-be. He already had the first person he'd interrogate picked out – that dopey prime minister's brat.

"Captain," Kei called, reading his expression. "Stop thinking about Taro or you're going to give yourself a headache."

"This is his fault."

"It is not, Dad," she stressed playfully. "It's mine. Still, Daiba looks really cute in a dress. You should make a ship dress code policy that he has to wear them."

"He went through enough, Kei. Let him be."

"You should wear suits all the time too."

"Kei."

"Maybe if you'd danced with him from the beginning, he wouldn't have gotten hounded by the boys. It's not his fault he made such a cute girl."

"Are you done?"

"Not until we go look for him."

* * *

"You could have done better," the prime minister reminded his son as he eyed the boy's new fiancée, who silently agreed.

Taro, however, was beaming. "I think she's perfect, Dad."

"There always was something wrong with you. Well, at least it's a girl. I was worried there for a while."

Daiba fought to keep his expression even as the elder teen frowned in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Means your dad is an-"

Sachie whistled sharply, grabbing their attention. "Come here, sweetie. I have to get your measurements."

Daiba didn't like the way that sounded. "What for?"

"Your wedding dress, and whatever else you might want."

"Wedding dress!?" the blond squeaked. They'd gotten engaged barely an hour ago, and technically he hadn't even said yes.

But the woman seemed to have something else on her mind, and the teen realized she was just trying to get him away from the other two. He really hoped there wasn't going to be any actual measuring for a dress. Maybe he could reason with this woman if he could manage a few smooth lies.

"Hey," the prime minister yelled at his back. "When are you two gonna have kids?"

The pirate might as well have received a hard blow to the head. "Kids?" he wheezed. Luckily Sachie grabbed his arm.

"At least wait until she's eighteen," the woman scowled.

"Women used to have kids at her age all the time."

"And the boss certainly would have fit in during the dark ages," Sachie grumbled, gently tugging the dazed pirate along. "Sorry about him. The brat needs to do a better job of defending you."

Daiba followed her lead up the winding stairs of the massive house, waiting until he was sure they were out of earshot. "I, uh, don't really want to marry Taro. I mean, I just met him last night."

"I know, dear, and I'm sure he doesn't want to get married yet either, but his father has the IQ of a rock. Old man was worried his son wasn't going to find someone he approved of. Wanted to make sure the brat found a rich girl."

Oh.

The teen bit his tongue. It probably wasn't a good idea to confess that he didn't actually have any money. Hell, he didn't have a family. But how else would he have made it into the party?

"So we can postpone the wedding, right?" he questioned.

"I'd love to, but it's not up to me, and the boss wants you two tied up as soon as possible, that way you're less likely to run."

Goddamnit.

"Is that what Taro's mom did?"

Sachie paused, sighing. "No, poor dear died when the brat was just a little thing, but he seems quite happy to let you have her old clothes and jewelry."

"He needs to stop that," Daiba huffed.

"You don't have feelings for him, I suppose, and that's only fair, but if you could at least stay and get to know him a bit more, I'm sure you could find some reason to allow the marriage to happen." She led him into what appeared to be an actual fitting room, and he cursed the rich again. Why would they need a fitting room?

"But if I marry him, that means I have to kiss him," the teen countered.

The maid giggled at his childishness. "Only once."

"That's more than there should be."

"I'm sure he wouldn't have a problem kissing you."

"I'm not worried about his problems. I'm worried about mine." He had absolutely no intention of giving his first kiss out to that idiot, but he allowed himself to be measured for the dress he was sure he'd never get close to putting on. It bothered him how he was getting strangely accustomed to being a girl.

"You don't have to live in the same house or even love each other to get married anymore," Sachie sighed. "It's all about appearances now with these people. At least that brat listened to me and found someone he actually enjoys."

She wasn't getting it. "You understand that I'm male, right?"

"Mm-hm."

"And the moment he and his dad figure that out, this whole thing's off." It would have been a good escape route, but there was still a chance of him getting recognized. Maybe he could steal a car.

"Ah, the boss doesn't need to find out. You could adopt a baby, and he'd be too stupid to ever notice that it wasn't yours."

What was with all this talk of children? "And Taro?"

She laughed. "You really haven't gotten to know him, I guess. Talk to him a little more."

"It's like talking to a wall."

With her measurements done, she clapped her hands against his cheeks. "I see why he likes you so much. You are darling."

No one in this house made any sense. "Uh…so I should probably tell my…dad that I'm engaged." He wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish that, because he had no means of contacting the Arcadia. Obviously he couldn't use his original means of calling it, and he didn't have a proper communicator. He didn't know the channels to call it. He didn't know anything.

He did know that the captain wouldn't be happy upon finding out that he'd been engaged. Kei would probably get a kick out of it though. Damnit, this was all her fault.

"Alright," Sachie nodded. "So what's his name? We honestly couldn't find an astronomer with the last name of Yuki."

"Um…" Shit, Kei hadn't made up a name for Harlock. And he obviously wasn't Japanese. "I'll just call him myself…later. I should plan how I'm going to break the news to him."

'Hey, Captain, do you want to come to my wedding,' didn't seem like the best plan.

"Then how about you spend some more time with your fiancé?" the maid offered.

"I think I've spent enough time with him today."

"Well it's about the time he usually practices fencing, so you don't have to."

Fencing? Daiba suddenly found himself interested. "Can I fence with him?" Fencing meant stabbing. Not lethal stabbing, but he could at least take out a bit of stress on the brat. And maybe he could even get out of these dresses for a bit to put on a fencing suit.

"I don't see why not," Sachie shrugged. "He'll be downstairs in the recreation parlor. That's to the right through the white doors. Ah! Don't run, dear!"

The teen didn't bother to listen as he raced downstairs. Maybe he couldn't play golf but he could sure as hell kick some ass with a weapon in his hand. Throwing the white doors open, he stormed into the room, lightened only by the sunlight pouring in from the row of windows.

"I want to fence," he demanded, glaring at the two sparring forms.

"Isn't that the prude?" one questioned, removing his mask.

Daiba scowled and placed his hands to his hips as he stared the familiar male down. "Hey, you're that asshole that called me a bitch."

"And you're that bitch," Lucas shrugged. A saber whipped against his exposed face, and he took a startled step back, clutching his reddening cheek. "What the hell?"

"Stop speaking that way about my fiancée!" Taro demanded as he ripped his mask off. "You deserved the way she treated you."

"I can defend myself," Daiba cut in. "Just give me one of those outfits and a sword."

The two blinked at him. "It's called a saber," Lucas corrected. "And I'm not going to fight a girl… Did you say fiancée?"

The pirate rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of sports protocols. "Like it matters. I'll still kick your ass."

"Everyone sure does like cursing," Taro sighed. "The dressing room's over there, and there's some extra suits in it, but I don't know if any of them will fit."

The blond quickly left to change, finding a muffled argument behind the door once he'd left the room. He was quite proud of himself when he did find a uniform that fit and eventually figured out how to put it on. When he stepped back out, the two elder boys quickly cut off their fight.

Taro's eyes brightened at the sight of his girl in the smaller white outfit. "That's mine from when I was younger," he laughed. "You look so cute."

The pirate puffed his cheeks. "After I kick his ass, you're next."

"Sounds like fun," Taro grinned.

Once he'd stolen his fiancé's saber, the short male took his position, attempting to look intimidating against his taller opponent. "Never fenced before, have you?" Lucas questioned snidely.

"No, but it doesn't look that hard."

"There are rules to the game," Taro explained. "We're playing the saber version, so no hits below the waist or to the hands. I'll keep track of points, but I guess this isn't really going to be a proper match… Just don't go crazy."

"Okay, let's go!" Daiba decided, lunging forward and piercing his opponent right in the center of the chest.

"That doesn't count. We haven't started properly," Lucas growled.

"There are no rules in combat. No one is going to wait for you to be ready." The pirate raised his blade and whapped the taller male on the side of the head repeatedly.

"Stop it!" he snapped, jabbing at the girl. She seemed unfazed and switched to stabbing him continuously in the chest with the flexible weapon. "God, you are annoying!" he screeched, swinging wildly. The handle of his saber connected solidly with the side of the prude's head, and she stumbled to the ground in a slight daze.

"Excuse you!" Taro roared as he grabbed the front of his friend's uniform in order to drive a fist into his gut. "Don't you touch her!"

Lucas was tossed unceremoniously to the ground, wheezing in pain, while Daiba found himself being hugged to his upset fiancé's chest. "I'm sorry," the brat grumbled. "You can fight me in a minute."

Reclaiming his saber, he regained his place in front of Lucas. "Well, get up. Let's finish our match."

"I can fight him myself!" Daiba countered.

"I know you can, but I need to beat him up because I'm so tired of him."

The cross-dresser was unimpressed. "You're going to do it with that toy sword?"

Lucas apparently agreed and jumped to his feet without his weapon. In an unspoken agreement, Taro threw his saber aside as well and brought his fists up. Because they'd all been homeschooled as kids, the brat and his friends had always had quite a bit of free time. Most of this time was spent in lessons that kept the kids out of their parents' hair. Taro had particularly liked lessons involving certain sports – golf, fencing, bowling, and the somewhat more useful boxing.

He knew how to deliver a punch, but so did Lucas. The black-haired brat connected his first hit to his friend's nose, while receiving a punch to the solar plexus. They were both completely on the offensive, and the younger male's fiancée found it quite entertaining to watch them beat the hell out of each other.

"Kick his ass, Taro!" she demanded. For a moment he was thrown off by the encouragement, happy for the cheer, but a powerful clock to the jaw brought him back.

"You always were terrible at finishing your fights," Lucas spat.

"There were rules in those fights," Taro wheezed. "There are no rules in real combat." Grabbing the front of his friend's uniform, he tore the taller male in close, slamming his forehead into his opponent's.

They both stumbled back in a daze before Lucas decided he'd had quite enough. "You're an idiot," he hissed, falling to his knees and clutching his ringing head.

"Yeah, but I'm her idiot," Taro grinned around his busted lip.

He found the small girl catching him beneath his arms as he fell back. "In real combat, you don't want to knock yourself out," she advised, gently lowering him to the floor.

"I'm still conscious though," he laughed through a wheeze.

"Yeah, but you look like hell just ran you over."

The brat found his head in her lap as she frowned down at him. Either she was upset because he was stupid, or because he was banged up. Either way was fine with him. "You still look beautiful," he hummed as he brought his hand up to brush against the bruise on her temple.

She grabbed his hand, frowning at his bloodied knuckles. "I don't want you to fight for me anymore. If you've got your own fight, that's fine, but if I can't learn to defend myself, I'm never going to get anywhere."

"If I beat up someone for you, it is my fight. I'll knock out every single one of my friends for you if that's what it takes. No one's going to touch you, because you don't like being touched."

"That's right," she sighed, smiling. "But this one's not quite down yet. I'll get him for you."

His pillow was carefully removed as she stood and stormed over to Lucas. After a quick knee to his already-damaged forehead, he was down for the count.

"You should just let me kick your friends' asses because it's the most entertainment I've had in a while," she grinned over her shoulder.

"You would look so cute beating them up," he laughed, quickly regretting it with a wince.

"I am not cute. I'm badass," she pouted, returning to him. "By now you probably do have a concussion, so maybe you should get that checked out."

"Well, we do have a doctor."

"Not…at your house right?"

"No, he's got his own house, but it's connected to ours. He is our personal doctor. He's the one that made sure you were alright after you got drugged at the party."

She stuck her hand down to him, her usual irritated expression returning. He placed grabbed for her hand and weakly hauled himself to his feet with her help. Once he was close enough, he placed a quick kiss to her forehead. She was so soft and cute, especially when she squeaked in shock, slapped him across the face and bolted from the room.

"She's gonna be my wife," he cooed, rubbing his reddening cheek, though he had a feeling that once her father found out, he'd be dead before they could even attempt to get married.

But for now he needed to focus on getting to the doctor without passing out. How did people walk in a straight line again? Was the floor getting closer? Oh, shoot.

Hopefully she'd come back to check on him. She wouldn't, but it was a nice thought.

* * *

**In the next chapter, Daiba thinks he can escape through a window or something. Little does he know that I won't let him. **

**Ahh, thanks for the reviews guys. You're such sweeties. I really do kind of want an excuse to put Harlock in a suit again. I am terrible. Probably will write another fic just for that purpose. **


	5. Escape Route

**I'm really tired right now, blah. Sorry there are so many line breaks in this chapter. I usually don't like having very many. Hope you don't mind. Oh, and this chapter contains dudes kissing. Uh, spoilers? Yeah, but if you don't want to read that part, just ignore everything after Harlock's scene. Anyway, thanks for reading!**

* * *

As he stared in an awestruck confusion at the tiger steadily making its way toward him, Daiba decided his simple escape method hadn't been as simple as he'd envisioned it. There was…a tiger in the backyard.

Though his immediate reaction was to run, he forced himself to slowly retreat backward. Running might cause the cat to rush him, and he wasn't entirely sure he could outrun it.

When his heel bumped the outer wall of the house, he felt behind him for the ledge of the window he'd crawled out of. "Good, kitty," he nodded slowly, stepping back inside as the cat growled, eyeing him as though he'd make a lovely meal.

Once back in his bathroom, he closed and latched the window, not completely sure it would hold the tiger back if the beast decided it wanted in.

Just as the thought ran through his mind, he heard a roar and found the cat clawing at his window.

"No, no no no!" he cried in terror, turning to run from the room. He was still in his fencing uniform, which made running a bit easier than a dress and cramped shoes.

"Taro!" he yelled as he burst into the parlor. "Tiger!"

The brat's response was a confused "Hrm?" as he turned to rest his cheek against the ground. He found Takako tugging on his arm, terror flooding her expression. Hey, she'd come back. She really was so sweet.

"There's a fucking tiger outside!" she cried. "It's trying to get in!"

What was she…? "Oh, Sam!" he realized. "Nah, don't worry about him. He can't get in. He did try to eat me once when I was little. That was funny. I have this big bite mark on my leg-"

"Why do you have a tiger!?"

He pushed himself up to sit beside her, his body aching at the effort. He'd certainly taken a beating, but at least he wasn't as bad as Lucas. He glanced over to his unconscious friend. Well, someone would come to get him eventually.

"My dad thought tigers looked cool, so he had one cloned," the brat shrugged. It was really nothing. Every one of the people his dad worked with had rare animals. It was a sort of status symbol.

"It tried to eat me!" Takako screeched.

Taro took a moment to think. Of course Sam probably would have attacked her, but he wouldn't have been able to reach unless she was in the yard. "How? Were you in his cage?"

"Why does my bathroom window lead directly out to his cage?" she fumed.

"Oh, that's where that window goes? I've always wondered about that." Not that that explained what she'd been doing outside her bathroom window exactly, but there was probably a reasonable explanation for that. His friends had reported that their dates often left that way, so maybe it was something girls did.

"Were you trying to walk home?" he questioned.

"N…no." She seemed unsure about her answer, her eyes darting around the room suspiciously.

"That's good," Taro said with a dopey smile. "If you do need to get home, we can give you a ride. Oh! And I should go with you so I can talk to your family." A nervous laugh escaped him. "Maybe your dad won't kill me."

Takako didn't seem fond of the idea. In fact, she suddenly looked nervous. "No…" she repeated. "I'm going to go…for a walk."

"In your fencing uniform?"

Daiba glanced down at his outfit. It was a bit eye-catching, but he'd be damned if he put on another dress. "I need pants," he frowned.

Taro's eyes brightened. "I can ask Sachie get you another dress- ow." The quick smack his fiancée placed to the back of his head caused him to pout.

"God you are dense," Daiba huffed. "Pants! I want pants!"

"But," the brat lovingly hugged his girl, "you look so cute in dresses."

"Let go of me."

"If I do, you'll hit me."

"Oh yeah, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Well, I'll need to go see the doctor anyway, so that's fine."

Daiba lazily reached up and flicked the idiot's nose. Escape didn't seem like an option at the moment. Maybe he could steal a car, but he didn't really know how to drive one, and it was just asking for trouble. As much as he usually didn't mind trouble, he had a feeling it was best to just lay low with all the government watchdogs around. No need to drag Harlock down into this mess. He'd just have to fix it on his own.

"I don't want a tiger right next to my room," he decided, hoping to distract his fiancé.

Taro rested his chin in Daiba's hair as he thought. "You can move upstairs if you want. There are a couple extra bedrooms there."

"Fine."

"Can you help me get to the doctor?" the brat asked, sure he'd receive a rejection. He could always wait for Sachie to come find him.

"Fine," the pirate repeated, taking him by surprise. "Come here." Daiba grabbed Taro's arms and draped them over his shoulders. Taking the taller boy's wrists in his hands, he slowly dragged himself to his feet. "You're heavy!" he protested.

"I didn't say you had to carry me," Taro smiled. "I can almost walk. I just need some help going straight."

"Fine!" The blond grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the door. The pirate's already-short fuse was getting shorter every moment he was with this idiot. He wanted a divorce.

* * *

When he'd said "I don't want a tiger right next to my room," he didn't mean "move me closer to you."

Daiba sat fuming in his new room, despising the nightgown Sachie had forced him into. Now that he was upstairs, Taro's room was right next to his. Sachie had assured him that the brat would behave himself, but Daiba was more concerned with getting away. He'd planned to leave at night, and now he was stuck on the second floor. That had been a terrible decision.

Hopefully he could still sneak out and not tumble down the stairs due to the darkness. The moon was bright enough to allow him vague outlines in his room. It was just slightly smaller than the old one, but all the amenities were still there. The nice new addition was the balcony out though the double doors. Lace white curtains covered them, glowing in the moonlight. The sky was too murky from the light pollution of the city to see many stars, but he'd gone out anyway to feel the coolness of night and to sit on the ledge.

He could try tying his bed sheets together and lowering himself to the ground. He'd just need to make sure the knots were tight enough.

It was a long way to the bottom.

For now, he curled himself under his comforter. The nice, cool cotton was much more comfortable and fluffy than the flat, worn one he had on the ship. Maybe he could take this with him when he escaped…later. He'd just enjoy a moment's rest in the rich bastards' bed. That would show them. They'd be so pissed when they found out that he was a he and a pirate.

And Taro, that idiot, would be…upset. Daiba's smugness faded. He wouldn't feel guilt over something like that – he couldn't. But he did find himself with the slightest tremors of regret at the thought of stealing that moron's smile.

It would have been best to leave tonight, before he got attached… Not that he would get attached! It was just strange to have someone that liked him so much, that didn't constantly scold him because of his short fuse.

It would have been best to leave that night, but he allowed himself to fall asleep. He was tired, his bed was comfortable, and he needed to make sure he said goodbye.

* * *

Two days. He'd said two days. Surely Daiba would still be alright after two days. Then again, this was Daiba he was talking about.

The pirate captain paced the length of his room, glancing every now and then out the window toward Earth. He couldn't shake a growing itch of anxiety. Maybe because it was Daiba or maybe because he was starting to develop a sixth sense about when his youngest crewman was in trouble, but it seemed at any moment he'd receive a call that the teen was in a bind or worse.

So he waited for one, pacing and pacing. This wasn't good for his health. As soon as he found his youngest pirate again, he'd absolutely straighten him out. While that might have proven Kei right about him being a worried father, he was just too anxious and irritable to care.

All those perverted teenage boys – his eye narrowed at the thought. He was going to kill them, especially that Taro one. Those bastards and their grubby hands inappropriately touching girls without permission, inappropriately touching his little girl…boy… girl Daiba… Girlba. He was getting a headache.

For now, he'd just worry, and he'd wait. He'd said two days. One down, one to go. Maybe he could change it to a day and a half and no one would notice.

* * *

In reality, he hadn't seen his father die. He'd been too late for that, but it didn't stop him from seeing it night after night in his head.

Each dream was the same. He was running, running to stop the Mazone assassin as she pulled out her gun and aimed. He could see it all playing out, just a few yards in front of him, but he was never fast enough. The gun was fired, and his father's chest was blown open. While there hadn't been in real life, there was always blood in his visions. The blast created a gory splatter, an impossible amount of it coating the walls and floor.

When Daiba finally reached the man, he fell to his knees in the bloody pool, but before he could touch his father, those hands circled his neck. His father's vacant eyes bored into him as he fought to breathe. Each time his vision would darken, his eyes rolling back. The captain wasn't coming this time to save him from the strangling hold. There was only darkness and the pain of not being able to breathe.

But this time he was pulled away from her grasp. His eyes flashed open, and he found himself in a room lightened by moonlight. Still, he couldn't breathe. His chest was aching, and air simply wouldn't come.

"Are you alright?" Taro questioned in terror. He was seated at the younger male's side, holding up the blond with a firm grip on his arm. "Do you need an inhaler?"

Desperate for breath, the pirate nodded furiously. Sharp, painful wheezes were the only sounds he could manage. He hadn't had an asthma attack since he was a little boy, and he'd forgotten just how much he hated them.

"You're going to be okay," Taro assured him quickly. "Focus on breathing for just a second. I'll be right back."

Daiba found himself clawing at the air where the elder male had been when he suddenly turned and rushed from the room. He wanted to scream for the brat to come back. Alone in the dark, he was vulnerable to the things hiding in the cover of the inky night. His short attempts at breathing picked up until he began to feel lightheaded.

"Hey-hey," Taro called as he returned, placing his arm behind the smaller boy's shoulders to keep him steady. "Come on, just use the inhaler. You'll be alright." He held it up to the pirate's mouth, and Daiba found himself grabbing the small device, breathing in a lungful of the stale, medicated air.

He immediately dropped the inhaler, turning to grab tightly to the front of Taro's silk pajamas. He cowered against the brat, his breathing just barely under control. "F-father, father," he whimpered, choking on sobs. It was only then that he realized just how much he'd been crying. The air was cool against his cheeks where the tears had left their trails, and they continued to fall as he trembled wildly in fear.

"You want your dad?" Taro questioned. "I'm sorry. We don't know where he is, but we'll find him for you."

Daiba gave a sorrowed wail. "N-no! It's- H-he's…" But Taro had seen his "father" at the dance. The pirate couldn't explain that his father was long dead, though he did find himself wishing the captain was nearby. Then he'd at least feel safe.

At a loss, Taro placed his arms around the shaking form clinging to him. "You're alright," he murmured. "I've got you." He placed his cheek to her ruffled hair and gently tugged her into his lap. "I'll get you anything you need."

"Y-you can't l-leave," she gasped, curling herself closer.

"I'll just take you with me," he smiled warmly. "Come here. Let's get some fresh air." Carrying her thin form, he took her to the room's double doors. "Starlight always calms me down after an attack," he explained.

"Y-you have asthma?" Takako sniffled, still shaking like a leaf as they stepped out onto the balcony. The concrete structure was framed by a finely carved railing that he carefully placed her on without letting go.

"Yeah, but it usually doesn't flare up too bad."

The wind was cool against them, ruffling the lace curtains which led back into the room. To keep warm, Daiba curled himself against the taller male, latching his arms around the brat's neck and snuggling his cheek against his chest. Taro smelled of musky cologne, bubble bath and faintly of freshly cut grass.

"Do you know the constellations?" the elder questioned curiously. "I've only ever been able to find Orion's belt and the Big Dipper."

"Ursa Major," Daiba corrected sleepily. He was actually quite content to fall back asleep, but he pried his eyes open to look out at the night sky. "Too much light pollution," he frowned. "But up there," he pointed, "that's Sirius. So there's Canis Major."

"I have no clue what you're saying," Taro confessed, his brow furrowed in confusion. "You lost me at Ursa or whatever."

Daiba laughed softly, leaning his cheek back against the brat and closing his eyes. Understanding, Taro brought him back inside and settled him back onto the bed. "Thank you," Daiba mumbled, feeling somewhat disappointed at the loss of his pillow.

His face was warmed suddenly as Taro's callused hands settled against his cheeks. His thumbs brushed away the tears still clinging to the pirate's eyelashes. "You scared the hell out of me," the elder sighed, leaning down and kissing his girl carefully on the forehead. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Daiba felt a surge of panic as Taro began to pull away. The blond wrapped his arms around the taller male's neck. He just couldn't leave yet. Not until…until…

The brat's warm breath ghosted across the pirate's lips. They were so close, and Daiba refused to let go. He merely breathed a sigh of relief as Taro leaned in and kissed him. His worries melted away against his trilling heart, and his hand tangled into the boy's feathery black hair.

The elder pulled away suddenly, his cheeks tinged a bright pink. The blond's face warmed in response, and he curled into a ball, hugging his knees. Okay, that wasn't supposed to happen. "C-can you stay here…tonight?" he stuttered. "Make sure…"

Taro glanced around the room, his eyes finally settling on the recliner in the corner. "Y-yeah. Nothing'll get you, Takako." He grinned winningly, still having trouble keeping eye contact for more than a moment.

It was probably for the best, as Daiba found himself struggling to return the smile. Takako…not Tadashi. Taro didn't care about him. He cared about this girl that had never existed. The thought ate at him. There was no chance that they'd be able to continue like this if his real identity was ever found out. But now…this, whatever this was, was all he wanted.

"C-can you sleep in my bed?" he whispered.

The brat jolted at the suggestion, his eyes wide.

"Just for tonight," the small pirate pleaded. Just so he could have someone warm and real to hold onto for once. Just to not feel so alone.

Taro must have seen something in his expression. "Alright, whatever you'd like." He slipped under the comforter, but not the sheets, figuring that was her personal space.

But once the elder had lain down, Daiba slipped out from under the sheets and curled himself against his source of comfort and affection, clinging to the boy's arm.

"G-goodnight," Taro squeaked.

"Mm-hm," Daiba managed, already drifting off to that sweet mix of cologne and grass. He really loved that scent.

* * *

**In the next chapter, Daiba comes to his senses and has a little tantrum.**

**Thanks for the reviews Sora and Aerandir! Y'all are too sweet. Harlock will get there...eventually. He's just taking his sweet time. He should probably hurry, considering things are about to go south.**


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